Chapter Text
Harry Potter woke up for the second time that night. He could still see, carved into his vision, the remnants of what used to be a bridge, collapsed by a bunch of Death Eaters.
Eager to return to sleep, he let out a sigh and turned over in bed. But all he got in exchange was Sirius’s face, mid-laugh, falling through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. He thought that time would help ease the pain, but his brain kept reminding him of his biggest mistake over and over again.
He got up, recognising that he wouldn’t have a good night’s sleep anytime soon. He took his Firebolt and went out to the grounds in the hope of muffling his train of thought by flying around a little.
He flew, ignoring the number of aurors he saw all over Hogwarts. Flying helped his uneasiness, and he used the opportunity to practice some Quidditch moves he was eager to learn.
Before long, the sun started to rise in the sky, and it was almost time for breakfast. He flew down and quickly went to the showers. Feeling refreshed, he headed to the great hall, not at all thinking about last night’s nightmare. Well, he was still concerned about what happened in his dream, but it was a mere afterthought.
“Good morning.” He took a seat across from Ron and Hermione. They both looked at him with concerned looks, conversing between themselves with merely brow movements. Finally, Hermione asked.
“Harry, where have you been?”
“Out, practicing Quidditch,” he answered shortly.
“Since when have you been out?”
Harry gave a shrug. “A while. Does it matter? I’m here now, am I not?”
Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances that Harry decided to ignore. They all got up to their first class that day, Defense Against the Dark Arts.
They all shuffled quickly to the classroom when his beloved professor arrived. They all sat in their designated spots, and Harry watched Snape as he regarded the class with a fixed sneer.
Harry was bored out of his mind just two minutes into the beginning of the lesson. Snape talked on and on about… what was he talking about? Harry was unsure. He was so bored that he thought, maybe, about having a quick nap…
“Potter!”
He leaped to his feet and sat up quickly. Apparently, he had dosed off.
“Am I boring the Chosen One so much that he thought he could nap in my class?”
“No, Professor,” Harry groaned quietly.
“Detention, tonight.”
Harry thought about multiple places his professor should go sod off to, but concluded that he didn’t want to spend any more painful hours with Snape than absolutely necessary.
With a sigh, he tried to make himself more awake, with varying degrees of success.
At dinner, Harry picked up his food, foreboding his upcoming detention. His friends tried to guess what Snape would make him do, getting more and more bizarre with their suggestions. Well, Ron mostly tried to come up with the most absurd option. Hermione just looked at him as some kind of riddle, while he tried his best to ignore her glares.
When the time came, he unwillingly got up and made his way to the dungeons, his friends wishing him good luck as he went down to his untimely demise.
He knocked at his professor’s office door, stepping into it when he heard “enter” as a response.
Snape sat behind his desk with a worn-out expression all over his face. Harry knew this face too well. He himself was making the exact same face, unintentionally mirroring his professor.
“Sit,” Snape commanded, and with a slight hesitation, Harry obeyed.
Snape studied him for a moment with his black, beady eyes before telling Harry the most aggravating thing he had heard in a while.
“Professor Dumbledore wishes for you to continue your training in Occlumency.” He didn’t try to hide his displeasure, and neither did Harry.
“What? Why?”
Snape continued to observe him, clasping his hands together and slightly resting his head on top of them.
“When was the last time you slept through the whole night?”
The question was surprising, especially coming from Snape, of all people.
“Why does it matter? It’s none of your business.”
“Just answer the question, you ungrateful teenager.”
Harry thought about it for a second. The last time he slept through the whole night, falling asleep easily and without waking up was… probably before Voldemort returned, before Cedric died, maybe even before that. Harry didn’t dare voice his conclusion out loud, he knew it sounded bad and a tad unhealthy.
“Considering your lack of response, I assume it was a long time ago, and you certainly look like it. Dumbledore thinks that teaching you Occlumency, despite the disaster of last year and your lack of any hint of hidden talent on that matter, would help you a great deal.”
Harry sneered. “I don’t need your help.”
“You’re free to tell that to Dumbledore, right after you finish detention, of course.”
Of course, Harry thought mockingly, the damn detention. Harry decided he should go to the headmaster first thing in the morning.
After what felt like hours, Snape dismissed him. With great relief, his tormented hours alone with his least favorite teacher had ended, and he entered the Gryffindor common room, meeting with two of his best friends who were waiting for him.
“How was your detention?” Hermione asked, half interested in him and half in their game of chess, which Ron seemed to win like always.
“Fine,” he said curtly. “I think I’m gonna retire early to bed tonight.”
“G’night, mate,” told him Ron, making his move in the process.
Harry went up to their room and collapsed onto his bed, exhausted. He put his glasses atop his dresser and welcomed sleep with open hands. But sleep didn’t want to land in his open arms, evading him once more as his mind replayed the last day’s memories back to him.
Accepting his sleep’s downfall, he reconsidered what Snape offered him. Well, didn’t offer per se, but involuntarily suggested. Then he remembered how the last time he tried to learn the topic ended, and he scratched the idea.
But… Snape still suggested it, despite everything that happened. If Snape can try putting it all in the past and try to continue forward, then maybe Harry can too. So what if he is a well-known Death Eater who was inside Voldemort’s inner circle? Dumbledore trusts him.
No, that didn’t help his argument, and it certainly didn’t help Harry trust him. But maybe he could use it to find out what Draco Malfoy is planning.
Yes, he’d use it for his own intentions, like a good little Slytherin. Harry scoffed at himself and rolled to his side, trying to push his thoughts away.
The next morning, he got up sluggishly, trying to be prepared for his eventful day. He dragged his feet to breakfast and plopped down in his usual seat at the table. He glanced at the teachers’ table and was surprised to see Snape’s eyes fixed on him with a calculated look.
He averted his eyes. Now was not the time, especially not in front of everyone in the great hall.
“Professor!” he shouted. He finally stumbled upon Snape in the corridors and ran to talk to him.
“I’m sure whatever there is that you want can be discussed civilly and quietly.”
Harry tried with all his might not to roll his eyes at his professor.
“Did you talk to Dumbledore?” Snape asked.
“No,” he exhaled, “but I thought about what you said yesterday. I…” he hesitated, “I decided that I want to continue learning Occlumency.”
Snape, if he was surprised, hadn’t shown it.
“Very well. Then I shall see you on Friday afternoon every week.”
Harry nodded, feeling like a huge rock had fallen from his back.
Harry started to regret his decision exactly ten minutes after he agreed to it. At noon that same day, he had a meeting with Dumbledore and the image of little Tom Riddle talking to a slightly younger Dumbledore still burned in his eyes. Seeing the little dark-lord-in-the-making wasn’t what concerned him, he actually felt pity for the little kid. No, he wasn’t scared of the boy, but the fact that he reminded Harry of himself did– nearly too much for him to handle.
Now, in front of Snape’s office door, he hesitated. His brain worked against him, reminding him of the last time he had tried to learn Occlumency. With courage not unlike Godric Gryffindor’s himself, he knocked on the threatening door.
“Come in.”
Reluctantly, he did. The face of Snape mirrored his own unwillingness to participate in what they were about to experience. Snape cleared up the office and stood in front of Harry, wand in hand. Harry tried clearing his buzzing thoughts and preparing himself for the worst.
“We’ll take it slowly so your dense brain can comprehend what we’re doing. Clear your thoughts; shield them.”
Harry nodded and closed his eyes. He calmed his breaths and tried not to think of anything, which was easier said than done.
“Legilimens!”
He was at the Ministry’s Department of Mysteries, Bellatrix Lestrange’s laugh echoed in his head, taunting him. “I killed Sirius Black! I killed Sirius Black!”
Then he was in a graveyard, watching helplessly as Voldemort rose from the cauldron, the body of Cedric Diggory abandoned on the earth. Wormtail was heaving and crying, holding his amputated hand.
Then he was in his tiny cupboard, hungry and crying, although he knew no one would listen to his cries.
“Are you even trying, Potter? It seems like nothing has changed since last year. If anything, you only got worse.” Snape ridiculed, as Harry’s mind came back to the present.
Harry gritted his teeth. “Believe me, I don’t want you to dig in my mind and see those memories either.“
“Then try harder! Obscure them! Legilimens!”
He was more ready now for the attack. He shouted, “Protego!”
He was at an unknown location. Snape had his left arm reaching out. He saw Voldemort, looking a little more human than he remembered. Voldemort took out his wand, aiming it at the offered hand, as ink blots spread out on Snape’s arm. Harry could feel the pain Snape might have felt as the dark mark was tattooed on his arm.
Snape didn’t look older than sixteen.
He blinked the memory away, and he was back in the office once more.
“Great,” Snape huffed. Harry could see his teeth grinding. “Now, let us try doing it silently.”
About an hour later, Harry felt exhausted. He felt robbed of his personal and private memories, but he knew Snape must have felt the same. Snape pinched his nose bridge and dismissed him, much to his relief.
At night, Harry still had trouble falling asleep, but when he woke up, the other boys woke up with him, and Harry felt more awake than he had been all month.